//------------------------------// // Sacked // Story: Progression // by Underdogg //------------------------------// "Hey..." "Hey c'mon buddy, you're on in five..." Your eyelids slowly pull apart, allowing the light from your dressing room lamp to shine relentlessly in your eyes, making you flinch. Immediately, as your eyes adjust, you find yourself staring in the face of a heavy set stallion staring back, except with a rather stern look on his face. "Get up. You don't have much time. Your act starts in five minutes, and you look like a complete mess!" You glare back at him dreamily, waiting for him to leave so you can slump back down and fall asleep again. As he marches over to the door and swings it open, you sigh deeply and close your eyes. "You can bet we are going to have a long discussion about this situation of yours, VERY SOON." He slams the door shut, leaving you to stew in his words. He was probably right about looking like a mess, judging from the crust around your eyes. You attempt to lift yourself off the hardwood floor to start getting ready, and immediately feel dizzy and nauseous at the first attempt of movement. You begin to feel an effervescent sensation in your stomach, and your forehead starts to sweat. Your chest tightens and you struggle to pull yourself towards the sink. Your left hoof slaps down on the basin, and you barely lift your head over the edge of the sink, before vomiting last night's binge. "Sarsaparilla and carrot juice" you think to yourself, as the sharp bitter taste shouts back at you. After all is passed, you slap the faucet starting the flow of water into your mouth. You swish for a while, and spit. "Dear Celestia, I am thirsty..." You take a gulp of water and swallow. The cool flow of liquid tastes gorgeous as you keep taking in gulps. You were badly dehydrated. Not a good way to start a long stunt act. The door slams open once more making you jump a little bit, catching water in the back of your throat. You quickly spin around and spit out of fright, right into the face of your boss. "I'll pretend that didn't just happen. You have two minutes to get your flank in gear and get out there! MOVE!" He once again slams the door, and leaves you staring blankly at where he used to be. You burst out laughing once he is out of hearing distance, and you trot over to the sink to start getting ready ~~ After a while of preparing yourself and quickly doing up your mane, you kick the door of your dressing room open and stagger down the hallway leading to the backstage. You had walked this walk too many times now, the wide hallway made it seem even more intimidating and nerve-racking. You could hear the muffled cheering of the audience outside, which was still being drowned out by your hangover. As you walk through the curtain and enter the backstage, you see your boss, pen behind his ear, and a clipboard in his hoof. He directs you to the left wing, but as you walk past, he shoves a hoof into your chest, eliciting a small "oof" to escape your lips. He glares at you in disgust. "You mind explaining that?" he says above a whisper. He points a hoof at your right foreleg, which proudly carries a patch of dry puke. * "And so, I welcome you to Wild Stunts! A show that will blow your mind away! Our first act..." The pony looks backstage and his flow is cut off at the sight of the commotion. Your boss was yelling at you in a whisper, while a stage-hand was wiping dried puke off your outstretched foreleg. "Fuck! There's no time! Now get on there and do it!" Your boss positions himself behind you. "Uh... our first act is the amazing... uhh..., incredible, INDIGO FLIGHT!" The crowd of ponies in the stands screams in an intimidating uproar. You stand there, dumbfounded, and unsure of what to do. The pony behind you takes initiative and shoves you forward, taking you by surprise. You stumble out onto the stage and trip over each hoof, landing flat on your muzzle. Your ankle twists during the fall, and you yelp in pain. As your head slams into the stage floor, you almost succumb to unconsciousness. Luckily for you, this only makes the crowd shout more, and the sound of mocking laughter echoes tauntingly throughout your eardrums and makes your teeth clench. They were used to seeing you collapsed on the floor after hurting yourself, and somehow took immense humour from it. The host trots over and lowers his head. "Look, kid, just suck it up and get it over with so we can fire you, okay?" You shoot a look at him and spit a little by his foot with an elegant, "Ptuh" and he shakes his head as if expecting that response. As long as you were working here you've known him to be a flankhole. He wanders off stage right, waving and smiling to the hundreds of ponies all eagerly awaiting something to happen. A silence befalls the crowd, as they all stare at you lying sprawled out on the stage. Tired, pissed off, and effectively jobless. In an enlightening fit of rage, you grab a microphone laying near you on the ground. You can barely flick the switch with your shaking hands, but once you finally summon up courage, you find yourself standing before a large crowd of silenced, stunned, and confused ponies. You take a deep breath, and let your outward appearance speak for itself. In the thickness of silence, you hear a sarcastic wolf whistle near the back, and snickers exchange briefly. Eventually you lower your muzzle to the microphone. "Hello?" you say. Somepony in the back shouts back something inaudible. "Great. Now that you can hear me, I've got a short story to tell you." You wait for the exchange of confused mumblings to die down. "Once upon a time there was a colt named Indigo. He hated his job and family so he ended up turning to the Mr. Bottle for help. But instead of soothing the stress Indigo had, Mr. Bottle was mean, and made Indigo very sick every single night of his life. And that's why Indigo quit school and joined the circus. So the moral of the story is...." words fail you. "Well... there is no moral. In fact, I have no idea why I'm still standing here talking to you drips." You turn off the microphone, and turn around, bucking in high into the air, leaving it to shatter onstage as you casually exit stage right. "Wow, you really made a statement out there didn't you. Maybe this time if you wish REAL hard, people will feel sorry for you and you can have all the attention you so desperately crave." the host of the circus follows you as you make your way to your dressing room to gather your things. You stop in your tracks and turn around. You turn around to give an angry retort, but instead you blow air out of your mouth and continue to your dressing room. You burst through the door, cussing under your breath, when you suddenly realise you have two visitors. The fat stallion from earlier, and a new pegasus, orange and bright yellow, gazing startled at you. There is a silence as both parties evaluate the current situation. "Hold that thought..." the fat stallion says squinting at you. "I may have just the pony you need." The other pegasus nods and walks over to you. "May I introduce myse-" "Go fuck yourself." You walk straight past the Pegasus and begin shoving your belongings into a paper bag. Old books, pictures, stunt certificates, and other bits of personal items accumulated over the years. "Hey." The orange and yellow Pegasus pipes up once more. You look over your shoulder at the intruder. "Oh I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear the first time?" you snap back at her. She huffs and walks over to you. The fat stallion gets up, somehow, and raises a hoof. "uh. Spitfire, I'll handle this." He drifts over to you, putting a hoof on your shoulder. He maneuvers you to the corner of the room out of hearing range from Spitfire. "Listen, you know who this Pegasus is? She's the leader of the Wonderbolts, the most prestigious flyers and stunt performers of all time. She's out scouting for talent, since they need more flyers for a show. Now, I've seen what you can do, Indigo, just take a look at those medals and snapshots you have. I showed them to her and she specifically requested to talk to you. If you can pull off a show with the Wonderbolts, well, you might just turn your life around. Give up the alcohol, Indigo. You don't need it. It's ruining your special talent." You gaze at him and back to the pegasus, looking right at you. "Fine, I'll speak to her. But I want this place out of my life for good." He shakes his head and chuckles. "That should be an easy wish to fulfill." You ignore his response and turn your attention to the Pegasus across the room. "Well, forgive me -Spitty-, I should have properly introduced myself. I'm Santa Claus." you sit down on a nearby stool. "Now c'mere and tell Santa what you want more than anything in the whole wide world..." She looks at the fat stallion and looks back to you, before letting a sarcastic laugh escape her throat. "Cut it out. Now." she says, an aura of seriousness surrounding her. "Ooh, you're the feisty type! I like that..." you mockingly respond. In a flash she swings a hoof at you and slaps you across the face, making your whole head turn ninety degrees. The fatty in the corner raises his eyebrows and sighs, and you rub your cheek. "Listen here. If you want to make something of yourself, you're gonna have to work for it. I'm here to help, I can help you be the flyer you once were." You sit there and gaze at her. "Has anyone told you that your mane is two-tone, or was it a jovial dye mishap by some of your -crazy- pegasus pals at "flying school". She sighs and looks at Fatty, shaking her head. "Co-operate, Indigo" he says almost threateningly. "So what do you want from me?" you say, looking at the floor. "I want to bring you back to the Wonderbolt training grounds. We are going to get you back in shape."